


Stealing Him Back

by NealsNeen



Category: White Collar, White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Bloodloss, Cape Verde, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Island Neal, Kidnapped, Poor Neal, Whump, bound and gagged, concerned Peter, held captive, shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NealsNeen/pseuds/NealsNeen
Summary: This is my take on S4 "Most Wanted" and fills in my "Bound and Gagged" - Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt. Although the story focuses more on Neal being shot. ;-)What if Neal didn't do so well after being injured by Collins? Can Peter "Steal Him Back" before it's too late?To some story-posts, I'm adding screencaps ^^ Check it out on my blog: https://nealsneen.tumblr.com/I am now on Instagram: whitecollarfiction - follow me :)
Relationships: Neal Caffrey & Mozzie, Peter Burke & Mozzie, Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey
Comments: 27
Kudos: 102
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

Neal had tried to reach the bolt that had clattered to the floor outside the cage he was being held in, but it had rolled away too far and now he heard footsteps approaching. _Damn it._

He quickly sat back down on the chair he had been bound to. He put the gag back between his teeth and by putting his arms behind his back pretended to still be bound by the shackles that he so easily freed himself from just moments ago.

He had been in the cage for the better half of the day and at this point, he was more bored than scared. His hair was disheveled, falling in thick waves over his forehead, he was thirsty and the heat was getting to him. Why did Dobbs even _have_ a cage in this opulent mansion on the Cape Verde islands? Something was off. And he knew that he and Peter would find out.

But his main concern at the moment was that Collins had found him. What would happen to him next? Did Peter and Mozzie know that he was being held captive?

Collins strolled into Neal's prison, exuding arrogance and the confidence of a man who thinks he has nothing to loose. Who thinks he had already won by catching one of the FBIs most wanted: Caffrey. It was evident in his eyes that he would stop at nothing to keep the victory, to make sure Neal stayed where he was so he could haul him back to New York.

Collins spotted the loose screw outside the cage right away and stepped closer, tapping the bars, which fell away and to the floor with a loud bang. Angrily, he yanked the gag from Neal's mouth who had a remark at the ready:

„You should get that fixed.“

At that, Collins grabbed Neal by the elbow and yanked him to his feet and pushed him against the bars.

„You only had to be good for a couple of hours, but it seems since you got two good legs, you're gonna find a way to run.“ He pulled his gun from his belt and raised it, pointing it at Neal, who put his hands up defensively, the handcuffs dangling off of one wrist. Collins was determined as well as angry. „You were about to flee, you could be armed.“

He lowered the gun, pointing it at Neal's thigh and fired.


	2. Chapter 2

Collins and Dobbs both watched with a cold expression as Neal screamed, bent over and clutched his thigh. The red stain on his slacks was growing larger by the second and the pain seemed unbearable. His heart was beating erratically and he couldn't get his breathing under control. _Shit, this isn't happening._ With all the strength he could muster, he tried to stand straight and look Collins in the eye defiantly, not wanting to show any weakness or defeat. But the pain was still all consuming and he wavered, extending one arm to hold onto the bars to steady himself as dizziness crashed over him like a huge, dark wave, creating spots in his vision. The room and the two men tilted and spun. 

„You better sit down, Caffrey, you don't look so good.“ Collins remarked and to Dobbs he said: „Do you know someone who could patch him up discreetly? I need to put his ass on a plane without fear of him dying on me on the way back to the States.“

Neal didn't register Dobbs' response, he was having trouble focusing. The sheer act to remain standing was getting hard to maintain. His hair was now plastered to his forehead and temples in dark brown, wet, ringlets and his deep blue eyes were even larger than usual, staring at Collins in disbelief as he tried to put pressure on the still profusely bleeding wound. Maybe he  _should_ sit down. Just for a minute. 

_Peter._ He knew he needed his partner. Where was he?  _Please find me, Peter._

Dobbs and Collins where still discussing how to handle Neal's condition as the young man let out a small whimper, his eyes still fixed on Collins.

Both men perked up just as Neal's eyes rolled back as he passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

Neal's hands fell away limply. One from his thigh the other let go of the bars, his arms hanging by his side as his legs folded in, his chin hitting his chest and he listed sideways and down towards the floor.

Collins had one second to react. He took a large step towards Neal and caught his upper body just before he hit the floor.

The young man was dead weight in his arms and heavier than he imagined. He slowly lowered him all the way down, which had Neal on his stomach, face down. His features were completely slack and his hair sprawled out on the floor.

„Damn it! Dobbs, call your damn doctor and get me a first aid kit.“

Dobbs returned with the kit and handed it to Collins who was sitting on the floor at Neal's side. A red stain had formed underneath Neal's leg and he hadn't shown any signs of consciousness in the past minutes.

„I told you he was trouble and that I didn't want him here.“ Dobbs complained.

„Help me roll him over.“ Collins ignored Dobbs' comment and grabbed the unconscious man's shoulder and arm, pushing him onto his side as Dobbs jumped over Neal to his other side, helping lower him down onto his back. The injured man's head rolled to the side and he elicited a pained groan but did not open his eyes.

Collins grabbed some bandages and wrapped them around Neal's thigh a few times atop his trousers. “This should slow the bleeding for now.”

Deep down, Collins was a sadistic man who enjoyed to see convicts suffer as long as they survived to grant him the success at the Bureau that he thought he deserved.

Dobbs still looked oddly out of place in his own house with a story going on he didn't want anything to do with in the first place. He knew this James Maine would be trouble.

The doorbell rang and Dobbs presumed it was the doctor and went to let her in right after Collins stated:

“Well, I'm sure this felon will not go anywhere, anytime soon. I'll move him to the couch in your study.” He shook Neal's shoulder. “Wake up, Caffrey!”

Neal's head rolled loosely on the floor until he gasped and blinked his eyes open. His gaze was distant but his stormy blue eyes found Collins'. He glared at the man. “You shot me, you ba'strd...” Neal slurred through gritted teeth.

“Don't be so dramatic, get up!” Collins slid his arm underneath Neal's shoulders and heaved. Neal was still dazed and like a rag-doll. His head fell backwards over Collins arm and he groaned at being jostled. Once he was in a somewhat upright position, his head fell forward onto his chest, he was panting fast and shallowly.

“Come on, pull yourself together, it's only a flesh-wound.”

One that hurt like a bitch and kept bleeding. Neal could see the blood seeping through the applied bandages. He steeled himself for what was to come as Collins slung his arm around his neck and stood up at the same time, pulling Neal with him.

They both staggered for a bit until they found their footing and started towards the stairs, which they climbed painstakingly slow until they reached Dobbs' study. On their way, the bandages had soaked through and Neal felt the blood running down his leg, leaving a track of red drops on the expensively tiled floor.

The doctor was already in the study, unpacking her supplies on a coffee table. She saw her patient enter, supported by another man. She was glad he was conscious although he looked incredibly pale and ready to pass-out.

“Mr Maine, is it? Please lie down on the couch. I'm going to give you a mild sedative as well as local anesthesia to retrieve the bullet. The wound probably requires stitches and I'll give you an antibiotics shot.”

She was clearly being paid to work on him discreetly, keeping this incident to herself.

“No, none of that. Just get the bullet out and stitch him up, I need to take him in. The plane will leave this afternoon.”

Neal and the doctor both looked at him in surprise and shock. “Look, doc. You don't know what he's done, he deserves this. I'm a federal agent and I'm telling you to get a move on. If you want more money, no problem, Mr Dobbs will compensate you.”, Collins snarled impatiently.

“What I want is for the patient to be comfortable and in as little pain as possible.” She said. Collins ignored her, his lips curling up into a menacing grin.

Neal had reclined one the couch, some pillows had been put behind his back so he was in a semi-upright position. There was a thin line of sweat forming along his hairline and he felt like he'd lost a lot of blood and wished for nothing more than some painkillers.

Due to the pain and blood loss, he had grown quiet, everything was fuzzy and he couldn't come up with any witty or sharp replies. Neither could the doctor and so all parties remained uncomfortably silent as the young, female doctor started to cut away the bandages and parts of Neal's pant leg to get a look at the wound.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to kinda go along with the story of this episode but to write it in a different way as well. Don't know how to describe it. haha. :) Anyway, hope you like it.

Mozzie and Peter were standing on a viewing platform overlooking the bay, both taking in the sight of the harbour on the left and Dobbs' mansion to their right.

It was the agent's third day on the island and he was glad he found his friend and for a while, he felt safe that he had arrived in time to warn Neal about Collins. Now, he wasn't so sure. They had found out that Neal went to speak with Dobbs, but he had an odd feeling that he had rat Neal out as his young friend hadn't returned to their hiding place during the night. 

  
He just hoped that Neal was okay. 

Mozzie was holding binoculars and peered towards Dobbs large villa, looking for any sign of their missing friend.  
„My turn, gimme that.“ Peter said teasingly.  
„Suit, I would've made an excellent spy, so I'm not sure you'd be any better at this task than I.“ Mozzie teased back but handed over the binoculars.  
Peter let his gaze wander. The courtyard of the villa had been empty the past hours so he scanned the area for any other out of the ordinary signs of ill-doing. As his eyes swept over the yachts in the harbour... and the names written on their bows... something clicked.   
„I know how we can divert Collins attention from Neal and reinstate his old deal in New York.“ He said. He was as surprised about his discovery as was Mozzie looking at him in disbelief.  
„How?“ 


	5. Chapter 5

Collins was standing in the middle of Dobb's study, utterly satisfied with himself and the catch he had made today.  
The doctor had done a decent job in his opinion, he had even allowed her to use local anesthetics. But the brief surgery had left Neal exhausted and he had passed out while the doctor had packed her equipment and left.  
Collins approached the sprawled out man on the couch. One arm was dangling limply off the edge, he took it and cuffed Neal's wrist to the coffee table, while lightly touching the area around the stitched up wound, noticing that it was hot to the touch. Neal was pale and boneless, breathing deeply and even, his head slumped to the side. Due to the pain and blood loss, he seemed to be in bad shape, but all Collins cared about was bringing him back to New York; his condition didn't matter.

Collins cocked one eyebrow dismissively at the wounded con and turned towards Dobbs, who was sitting at his desk, looking around nervously. Clearly, the island mogul was antsy about something, but Collins didn't care at this point.  
„Thank you, Mr Dobbs for your cooperation. We'll be out of your hair soon. I just have to get the convict to the airport.“  
„My pleasure. No need to wait until he wakes up, it'd be best if you left now as I have business to do, Mr Collins. I'll send my guard to put Mr Maine or … Caffrey in your car.“

A tall and burly looking man entered the room and walked over to Neal. He bent down and slung Neal's arms around his shoulder and heaved the unconscious man up by his midsection, holding onto his legs and leaving Neal's limp form dangling over his broad frame.  
They went downstairs and approached the jeep. Collins was already on the driver's side and had reclined the passenger seat a little into which the guard was lowering Neal cautiously, laying him out, lifting his legs inside and buckling him in.  
Neal's head had rolled to the side, his cheek almost touching his shoulder. His face was now flushed and his slack features were beginning to come alive. He drew his eyebrows together and sighed in pain. His parted lips uttering a breathed „P...“  
„P'r“  
„What, Caffrey? You want some water?“  
Collins reached for the small bottle in the back, uncapped it and held it to Neal's lips, while his left hand grabbed the young man's chin and lifted it.  
Neal drank greedily until Collins yanked the bottle away, threw it in the back and produced some zip ties from his pocket instead, tying Neal's wrists to the dashboard. The young con was coughing weekly and writhing in the seat uncomfortably while slowly coming to.  
„Pet'r?“  
„You really think Burke would come to your rescue after the stunt you pulled by fleeing? I don't think so.“ Collins snarled and started the car.  
Neal blinked sluggishly at his captor. His limbs felt leaden and like he was walking through thick molasses.  
„You shot me, you bastard.“ He breathed through gritted teeth.  
„And now I'm hauling your ass back to where you belong.“ And with that, they drove off.


	6. Chapter 6

„Mozzie! This Dobbs guy could very well be someone from way up the most wanted list of the FBI. A man named McLeash. If we could prove it and I'd call Hughes to explain to him that Neal helped bringing him in, he would maybe re-install Neal's old deal.“ 

„Quite the plan, suit. But we would need two things for that. A picture of Dobbs and... **Neal**!“

„Yeah, I know.“

„No, suit. Look. It's Collins and... Neal. Oh my god. Is he okay?“

The two men could see from their look-out point that Collins was approaching a parked jeep in the front yard of the mansion, hopping into the driver's seat, while a broad-shouldered man walked through the front door, laden with an unconscious man hanging from his shoulders which appeared to be none other than Neal. Even from afar, they were able to make out the blood on his slacks.

Both drew in a sharp breath as the guard lowered Neal into the passenger seat, the con-man bonlessly melting into it. „Oh god. He's not doing so well. What did they do to him?“ Peter gasped, concerned for his friend's well-being.

As the jeep started down the driveway, both men jerked out of their stupor and ran down the slope towards their own car.

If Collins would catch Neal, Mozzie had the brilliant idea of blocking the main road towards the airport with a little help from the local kids.

So as they followed the jeep into town, they hit the jam in exactly the right spot with Collins and Neal only a few cars down. _So close!_

They could hear Collins clamoring from afar and saw his wild gesturing, clearly not happy about all the fruit, vegetables and crates laying strewn about in a chaotic pattern on the road, while the kids were picking them up rather too slowly in his opinion.

They slowed down and came to a stop in their beautiful baby blue convertible classic, waiting for the right moment to get to Neal.

WCWCWCWC

Collins was steering the jeep down the narrow road and cursed internally. Some kids seemed to have had an accident with a bloody fruit stall. Damn, they didn't have time. They really needed to catch that plane to their first stop on the Canary Islands.

The con man in the seat next to him didn't seem to do so well. He was conscious, but just barely.

For some reason, the agent couldn't shake the feeling that this little _coincidental_ fruit-accident had something to do with his criminal fugitive. He knew how resourceful the man could be.

As he brought the jeep to a stop, he looked at Neal. “What is this?”

Neal lifted his head an inch to glare at Collins.

“Don't look at me. I've been stuck in a cell... shot and.. ah, tethered to a dashboard. “ He breathed through gritted teeth.

The pain-meds were wearing off.

“Those are not going to move themselves. I'm happy to land a hand, but...”

Collin's patience with Caffrey was wearing thin. That smart-ass bastard always had a witty reply, always thought he had the upper hand.

The agent lost control for a second and brought his fist down onto Neal's thigh. Punching the gunshot wound with more force than he had meant to.

His captive drew in a sharp breath, unable to curl into himself the way he was bound by the zip-ties.

All he could do was to writhe in his seat a little, trying to breathe through the pain while involuntary whimpers escaped his throat.

Fresh blood was running down the sides of Neal's thigh and his blue gaze grew distant as his body lost all it's strength to remain tense and he just slumped down in his seat, his head falling to the side towards the door, away from Collins, his eyes slowly closing as he passed out once again.

Collins was a little surprised by his own outburst. But there was still no time to waste. He would get Caffrey some pain-meds on the plane and have the wound re-bandaged to make up for it.

The agent threw one more glance at his charge and got out of the car to help move the fallen fruit-stall out of the way. This would take some time, damn it!

As he was picking things up, a small man with glasses and a straw-hat was approaching the scene and started helping, for which Collins was grateful, but the stranger didn't seem to be happy with the way Collins had addressed the kids, obviously wanting to engage him in a lecturing discussion about politeness. _Can this day get any worse?_ Collins thought and glanced back to the jeep.

The passenger seat was empty.


	7. Chapter 7

The moment Mozzie left the car to run down the street and buy them more time by engaging Collins in a conversation, Peter got out of the car as well and hurriedly made his way to the jeep, approaching it on the passenger side.

He was anxious to see how Neal was doing. Something clearly had happened that had left Neal bleeding and groggy and it was exactly the reason Peter had wanted to warn Neal about this dangerous and violent agent and to protect him from any harm... and... to bring him home.

The past weeks without his partner and best friend had been bleak. Not knowing when they would see each other again made Peter realize how close they actually were. Neal was family and always would be. Not matter how many impossibly reckless situations the young man would get himself into, he would be there for him. To save his ass over and over again, to make sure he was okay, loved and trusted.

So Peter would be forever grateful to Ellen. Without her help, he wouldn't have found Neal on the Cape Verde islands.

Peter tried to focus on the tasks at hand: Get Neal, expose Dobbs, trade that catch with Collins and re-install Neal's old deal. It sounded complicated but doable. But when he approached the passenger side, he could see why even task one would be quite the challenge.

Peter stopped right in front of Neal's face. His partners head was slumped to the side, his chin touching his shoulder, so Peter's first impulse was to touch Neal's mop of hear lightly, stroking his dark waves while assessing the young man's condition.

His right thigh clearly had been shot and his trousers were sporting a large amount of blood, some dried but most of it fresh, as if the wound had re-opened recently. _That bastard!_ He thought.

Peter tapped Neal's slack face, knowing that time was of the essence.

“Come on, buddy. Wake up.”

He dared a glance towards the front of the road and saw that Collins had his back towards the jeep, yelling at Mozzie.

_Now or never._

Peter got a knife out of his pocket and cut the zip-ties. Neal's arms fell limply into his lap but the young man seemed to come to with a pained huff, blue eyes opening partially to look at the older man, his brows drawing together in surprise.

“Pt'r?” he slowly raised his head to make sure that it was really his friend coming to his aid, while Peter opened the door, nervously looking between Collin's form in the distance and his injured friend.

“Yeah, buddy. Come on, we need to leave. Now.”

Peter was not in the position to consider the amount of pain that Neal clearly was in. It was more important to get him to safety.

So he determinedly grabbed Neal's legs and hoisted them out of the car. Then, he leaned down and wrapped his arms around Neal's body and pulled him forward. His friend seemed a little more alert and hopped down from his seat, cautiously putting weight on his good leg. But the sudden change in position made Neal sway and Peter feared that he would pass out again.

“Neal!” Peter shook him maybe a little too hard as his young friend uttered a grunt and his rag-doll form was jostled from side to side.

“Yeah, Pt'r. 'M here. Let's go.”

Peter was half-carrying, half-dragging a stumbling and limping Neal towards their convertible, his heart going out to his friend. He wished he could trade places with him or ease his pain right here and now.

They reached the car and were both panting with the effort to escape Collin's grasp.

Peter sat Neal on the side of the car, so the con could ease himself down across the back-seats.

Instead, at that moment, Neal's weakened body decided to pass-out again.

Like all his stings had been cut, he let out a barely audible 'uh', and started falling sideways.

He would've hit the pavement, if Peter hadn't caught him and steered him in the right direction, lowering him towards the back-seats. He had his arms around Neal's back, his friend's head was tilted backwards and his arms were hanging limply by his side, lips parted, face completely slack. _Shit, he's heavy god damn it!_

Slowly but surely, Peter leaned into the car with Neal's form, until his friend was laid out across the seats, out cold.

Peter quickly made his way to the driver's side, got in and at that moment he heard Collin's infuriated yell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Survey:  
> Whumperflies on a scale from 1 - 10? :D


	8. Chapter 8

Peter parked the car outside their hide-out. It was a beautiful terracotta stone-house with a spacious patio. The agent wished that El would be here with him. It reminded him of their last holiday in the Caribbean, which seemed ages ago. And she would know what to do right now.

They couldn't admit Neal to the local hospital, the risk of being found by Collins was too high. They needed to make the trade with Dobbs/McLeash first. He had sent Mozzie not only to distract Collins but also to go back to Dobbs' mansion to see if he can take a picture of the ominous man.

And also to obtain some antibiotics and pain-meds for Neal, he was sure that Mozzie had his ways to get his hands on the supplies. For once, Peter was glad that he and Mozz were in this together.

Peter heard a groan form the back-seat and turned around to see that Neal had opened his eyes. “'M glad, you found me.” He said with a hint of a grateful smile on his flushed face.

The older man reached out to touch Neal's forehead and frowned at the heat.

“Come on, let's get you inside.”

They made their way out to the patio slowly and painfully and reached a sunbed standing in the shades under the patio roof, onto which he lowered his friend carefully. The young con sighed deeply and sprawled out, completely exhausted from their little trip. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain, to find some sort of comfort.

After Peter had searched the house for a first aid kit, he had re-bandaged the wound, given Neal some Tylenol and was dabbing at Neal's forehead with a cool washcloth.

Neal seemed to be resting with parted lips and an utterly young expression on his face, despite the salt-and-pepper stubble.

“Hang in there, kiddo. I'm going to get you home.” Peter said quietly more to himself.

Neal stirred and blinked his eyes open owlishly. “P'tr. Good to see you.”

“You too, Neal. Sorry that Collins shot you. This never should've happened. You're running a fever, but Mozzie should be back any minute with some antibiotics and meds.”

“Thank you. For saving me. Don't know what would've happened, if Collins got me on that plane. Am I still going to prison, Peter?” Neal looked at Peter with large eyes from underneath the cloth.

Peter sighed and patted Neal's chest with his free hand.

“Not, if I can help it. I may have a plan to trade you for Dobbs. But more about that later. Rest.”

“...K.” Neal's eyes were slowly closing and his head fell to the side heavily.

A couple of hours later, Peter had helped Neal shower and Mozzie had given them a demonstration of his best field medicine skills by patching up the young man's wound with expert quality. Or so he thought. They had also sent a picture of Dobbs to the FBI in NY, which was analysed and proven to be the infamous (now surgically altered) McLeash, who was on the most wanted list for years.

Now all they had to do was set-up a trap for Collins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, having a bit of a writers block. ^^ Really want to and need to finish the story though... Neal is suffering so nicely. :D tihi


	9. Interlude

The bullet from Neal's thigh had been removed and the wound stitched up by Mozzie, but it was quite clear that the painkillers weren't cutting it for Neal and that the blood loss left him groggy and sluggish.

The punch on the thigh by Collins hadn't helped either. But they needed to move forward with their plan and Neal was utterly grateful that his friends had come to his rescue.

Who knows what condition he would have been in now, had he still been with that sadistic agent. Ironically enough, he was currently sitting in Collins jeep yet again, feeling a little too cold and too warm at the same time, his thigh was killing him and he could feel the stitches persistently.

Peter had driven him back to Dobb's place, where he had confronted the man about being McLeash and that he had been made. That word had gotten to the U.S. and therefore, more FBI men were on their way to arrest him. He receded quickly and back to where Peter was waiting in the parked car, before McLeash could recover from the news. On his way out and thanks to an anonymous tip by Mozzie where Neal might be, Collins was storming up the driveway, shackled and manhandled Neal back to his car and they were now en-route to the small airstrip near the main-town.

Collins was still very determined to haul Neal back to New York as soon as possible and he was extremely agitated about Neal almost slipping through his fingers.

 _Almost over. Peter will make things right. It'll work._ Neal told himself as he let exhaustion wash over him, after his short trip to and the conversation with McLeash. He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes for a minute. His curls were plastered to his forehead and he felt like he might fall asleep at any moment. Plus, Collins frequent side-glances at him were creeping him out.

Meanwhile, McLeash hastily packed some backs and was now also on the way to the airstrip in hopes of fleeing yet again and building a life somewhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more whump in the next and last chapter. :)


	10. Chapter 10

Peter had just said his goodbyes to Mozzie on the airstrip, when he saw Collins jeep approaching.

McLeash had gotten here two minutes ago and had boarded the one plane that was going to the mainland, not aware of what is going to happen.

Peter approached Collin's jeep, which had just stopped near the plane. The first thing he noticed was Neal's pale complexion and that his hands were cuffed in front of him.

“Look at that, Peter. I caught your favourite con-man again and nothing is going to stop me from bringing him in. But it's nice that you are concerned about him and are here to see him off.” Collins snarled.

“That's not why I'm here. There is someone else on that plane. It's Dobbs. Whose real identity is the FBIs number four on the most wanted list, McLeash. And he is in the act of fleeing the island. If you do the right thing, you can earn yourself the biggest accomplishment of your career.”

Collins had gotten out of the car and now held the door open for Neal to climb out. “Yeah, right. McLeash, huh?” He looked at Peter, but pulled on Neal's elbow and yanked at his prisoner.

Neal got out slowly and swayed in place, before he slumped against the side of the car with his back.

“No resting, Caffrey. Get a move on.”

Neal pushed himself off the car and started staggering towards the plane between Peter and Collins.

Peter dared a side-glance at his friend and Neal did the same thing, indicating with his large pale blue eyes that he wasn't going to last much longer.

Peter knew that he needed to make the deal now so that he could get professional medical aid for Neal, not just some short bald nurse with field medicine skills who means well but certainly isn't a doctor.

They came to a halt outside the small plane. “If you make the arrest, Collins, there will be a lot of press waiting. And it was very clever of you to come here to expose McLeash with the help of Neal, whose old deal would be re-installed.”

“You tricked me.” Collins was obviously fuming but also considering his options. Caffrey certainly was the smaller fish to catch.

Collins slowly got out his keys and uncuffed Neal, who sighed visibly, sagging a little to the left, leaning into Peter a bit for support.

Relief washed over Peter and he relished the feeling of his friend leaning into him for a second albeit knowing it was because he was unwell, but at least their plan had worked and they would be back to their normal lives in New York in no time. As normal as it could get with one Neal Caffrey.

What no one was expecting at that moment was McLeash who, out of nowhere, bolted out the plane-door, propelled by desperation and the conversation he had just overheard.

He sprang at Collins and they both tumbled to the floor, both swearing under their breath as they grappled with each other until McLeash gained the upper hand by hitting Collins across the jaw, hard.

Collins lay there stunned and the blonde man towering over him spotted the revolver sticking out of the agent's pants.

He grabbed it in a quick motion, pointing it at Peter. “You're all FBI. I can't have any of you arrest me.” Peter and Neal just stood there, slowly raising their hands in a defensive gesture as McLeash got up.

“I'm sorry.”

“NO!” Neal took one step in front of Peter as McLeash pulled the trigger.

Peter heard the shot and felt Neal being thrown against him and going completely slack. He reacted at the same time and caught Neal's upper body, panic rushing through him. _The kid can't be shot twice in such a short amount of time, can he?_

He crouched down and lay Neal onto the tarmac carefully. Neal's head rolled to the side away from Peter, his lips parted and his arms just lying by his side.

“Come on, Neal. Don't do this to me.” Peter felt for a pulse and found one. He sighed and looked up to find the most curious picture.

McLeash lay on his stomach, half-conscious. Behind him was Mozzie, holding a metal pipe of some sort and Collins had recovered and was cuffing McLeash's arms behind his back.

Mozzie looked at the FBI agent, at Neal and then at the pipe in his hand. He dropped it like a hot potato and started running back to the hangars, clearly spooked by his own actions, exposing himself to the other agent.

“I am taking this plane and you are going to be on it, McLeash. And your criminal record just got longer. Up, let's go.” He hauled the criminal to his feet and approached the plane's steps.

“Take care of your con-man, Peter. Looks like he was shot again.” Collins almost seemed amused.

Peter scowled at him and returned his attention back to Neal, who still hadn't moved.

He hastily patted his friend down for any bullet holes and almost sobbed in relief when he found a large gash on Neal's upper arm, which was clearly a bullet graze. It was not life-threatening, but bleeding quite a bit. For a moment, Peter was certain he had lost his best friend.

“Neal.” He gently shook the young man. When he got no response, he wrapped his hands around the back of Neal's neck and turned his face towards him, which was completely slack. He touched Neal's cheek and could feel the fresh spike of fever radiating off him.

“Damn it.” Peter looked around and saw that Mozzie was waving at him from across the tarmac, a phone in his hand, indicating that he had called for an ambulance.

He also realized that the plane had closed it's door and started the motor, about to roll towards the runway. He needed to get Neal out of there, away from the plane and out of the heat.

So by sliding one arm underneath Neal's knees and the other under his back, he lifted him up carefully. Neal was like a rag-doll in his arms, completely slack, all limbs dangling uselessly and his head tilted backwards over his arm. _Oomph, the boy is heavy._

Peter took small, quick steps towards the cars and rounded Collin's jeep. Behind it, he lay Neal down in the shades the vehicle provided.

“Ambulance is on it's way. Is he okay?” Mozzie had appeared by his side, a concerned look on his face as he lay one hand on Neal's chest, seeking comfort in the fact that his friend was breathing.

“And shouldn't we wrap something around that graze?” He asked. 

"I can hear the sirens, Mozzie. Let's wait for the medics to take care of Neal. Good job in knocking out McLeash by the way." Peter winked at the smaller man.

\---

Peter sat in a hospital chair reading a newspaper when he heard a small groan coming form the bed in front of him.

Neal had been admitted to the local hospital and Peter was glad that he was being treated here, before they took the long journey home.

“Hey, Neal?” The agent brushed some dark curls from Neal's forehead, whose brows were drawn together. He could see that Neal was slowly blinking his eyes open, looking up at him and grinning lopsidedly.

“They got you on the good stuff, my friend. I bet you'll feel better in no time. They re-stitched your wound; both of them actually and your fever is down.”

“Got sh't twice, Pt'r.”

“I know, buddy. I'm sorry. You saved my life.” Peter sighed and patted Neal on the head in a grateful and paternal manner. “And I can't wait to get you home on our couch for El to fuss over you.”

“Can't wait eith'r.” Neal whispered. His eyes closed on their own accord and his head fell to the side. Peter looked at the con-man for a while. He was glad, all of this was over and he was glad he got his best friend back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!^^
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, guys. <3


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